The Bleeding
by candylyn
Summary: Riddick's fate was decided long before he was born. But will he go along with the program? Pitch BlackAliensPredator Crossover
1. Broken Families

The Bleeding  
Chapter One: Broken Families  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story.   
  
Notes: Okay, yes I am crazy but this is a Pitch Black/Aliens/Predator crossover.   
PLEASE I NEED FEED BACK!!!  
This story starts about seven months after Alien Resurrection.  
  
  
No place left to run, all they could do was pray and hide...  
  
Something, Call was sure Ellen would have called guilt, coursed   
through her tiny Synth frame as she pressed her pale white hand over   
Ellen's mouth to muffling a groan of agony as she pushed in   
time with another contraction. The second in as many minutes. The   
plastic bags of trash, that they were resting on, shifted slightly as   
Ellen lurched forward, strained, then fell back into her Lover's   
arms, resting her head on Call's slight breasts.  
  
"You're doing fine," Call whispered into Ellen's ear lovingly, while   
stroking hair thick curly brown hair in a feeble attempt to comfort   
Ellen's pain. As attentive as Call was being Ellen could hear   
distraction in her Lover's voice.   
  
Call's head shot up, as the sounds of a vehicle approaching caught   
her attention. "What?" Ellen managed between tired ragged breaths.  
  
Call said nothing, tuning out every sound but Ellen's heartbeat and   
the sound of the vehicle. She hoped for it to pass, but it didn't.   
It pulled into the alley and stopped. Call noted, the glow from the   
vehicle's headlights penetrating through small holes in the closed   
lid of the dumpster.   
  
Another contraction hit. Ellen bit down on her bottom lip, in an   
attempt to silence the scream building in her throat. A small   
trickle of crimson rolled down her chin and dripped on to her dirty   
sweat shirt, burning a hole clean through it. Call gently pulled her   
Lover closer.  
  
"Check everything, this is the only place they could be..." Call   
sighed her defeat, she knew it was over, they were dead. After seven   
months of planet hopping and running from SEALs, Mercs and Marines,   
it was all going to come to an end, a bloody one to be sure, in an alley   
dumpster.   
  
Decision time.  
  
Call withdrew the gun that had served them so well over the last few   
months from the holster strapped on her thigh. Ellen glared at the   
weapon as another wave of pain rolled over her body. Checking the   
clip, Call was both pleased and disheartened to find only two bullets   
remaining.   
  
Go out with a fight or murder-suicide? All she needed were the two   
bullets for the later, one bullet for Ellen and one for herself. The   
Baby was gone already.   
  
With her hearing, Call had known for weeks that the Baby's heartbeat   
was irregular, but she'd hoped it was a correctable problem.   
Something that they could deal with once they had reached the   
relative safety of the Odessa Colony. She had been hesitant to tell   
Ellen though. The woman was under enough stress, the last thing Call   
wanted to do was compound her agony by telling her the Baby was ill.   
But as soon as Ellen went into labor, Call heard the baby's heartbeat   
stop.   
  
Call fingered the trigger. Her original protocol programing had   
prohibited her from hurting, harming or killing a human, but she'd   
overridden that months ago. Killing, especially to protect Ellen,   
had become like second nature to her. Ellen would understand,   
possibly even welcome, Call deciding to kill them. Ending their   
misery. Shit, looking back on things now, she wondered why they   
hadn't thought about doing it long ago?   
  
The answer to that question came to Call just as a long curly brown   
lock of hair brushing against her cheek as Ellen rolled her head from   
side to side while writhing in agony, trying her damnedest not to   
scream. The answer was simple, they loved each other. Killing Ellen   
was beyond her, even if it meant an end to the suffering and pain. A   
damn clone and a synth in love. It almost made her want to laugh.   
  
"HOLY SHIT SARGE!!!" Both Call and Ellen's heads snapped to   
attention upon hearing the terrified trimmer in the voice of a   
Solider. A thunderous shower of gunfire suddenly exploded in the   
alley. Call pulled Ellen closer to her as she dragged them deeper   
into the dumpster.   
  
The painful screams of the soldiers began to overwhelm the sounds of   
gunfire, as one by one the soldiers were being picked off by another   
group. Call focused her attentions on this new threat. She counted   
seven ... heartbeats? Beating with the power of cannon blasts.   
  
"What ... the ..." Call's breath caught in her throat as she listened   
to the sounds of bones being blown to splinters by high caliber laser   
fire. Each new blast silenced another screaming Soldier's voice.   
  
A final shot rang out. A final scream rose up. Then, silence. The eerie calm   
that followed chilled Call to her synthetic bones.   
  
" ... so human." Ellen whispered on a ribbon thin breath.   
She'd had so many nightmares about what her child would   
look like. Never in her wildest dreams or wishes had she   
dared to imagine that he would be so completely human.  
  
Call said nothing, uncertain if it was safe enough to speak yet.   
And even if it was what do you say to comfort a Mother, the woman you   
love, holding the lifeless body of her newborn child?  
  
Ellen looked at the child's face, which was covered in murky fluids.   
He was unbelievably beautiful. So small, so perfect. Dark satin curls   
rested atop his perfectly round head. His eyes were shut tight, and   
she fought the urge to open them in order to find out their color.   
His face was sweeter then any other she'd ever seen.  
  
He was so human ... and so very dead.  
  
Ellen had no tears left to cry, even for her own child. Only a weak   
sob escaped her throat. She silently prayed that who ever found   
them would kill her quickly, end her never-ending suffering.  
  
Call, listened. There was nothing, but the beating of seven powerful   
hearts and...  
  
Suddenly, the lid of dumpster flew open. Call raised her gun, ready for   
a fight. She knew that a battle with these newcomers would be futile,   
still she would not give up without a fight.  
  
A milli-second before she squeezed the trigger, Call felt the gun   
pulled from her hand. "Do not say a word." To Call's surprise a young   
girl, no older than fourteen, with a rather harsh accent was looking   
down at them. Her fire red hair was braided close to her scalp in ten   
neat cornrows. Her face was kind, but within the depths of the child's   
eyes Call could see a horrid darkness. Odder still was the burn mark   
just between her red eyebrows in the shape of a tear. It seemed purposely  
placed on her other wise flawless face.  
  
"Who are you?" Call demanded.  
  
The girl smiled, but didn't respond to the question. "Leave the infant,"   
the girl ordered sternly.   
  
If looks could kill, the one Ellen shot the young redhead would   
have stopped her heart right there on the spot and teleported her   
directly to the morgue. "Never!" Ellen fired back.  
  
The Youth looked to the calmer of the pair, "It is safe, but that   
will change. You must leave ... now." Call glared at her for a moment   
longer, finally she nodded and locked her hands around the baby.   
Ellen fought Call with every ounce of strength she had left. It was   
a fruitless battle. Call quickly relieved Ellen of the Baby   
and placed it on a nearby bag of trash.  
  
Ellen's protests were silenced by the sight of her child laying   
lifeless on the heaping pile of garbage. He was gone. All the   
screaming and begging in the universe would not bring him back.   
  
Ellen was the last one to crawl out. Call steadied her weakened   
Lover as best she could while they made their way to the Marine's   
vehicle. Marines that were no longer an issue, Call realized as she   
scanned the alley walls, now painted red with the blood of the   
Soldiers.   
  
Call looked back at the redheaded girl still standing calmly by the   
dumpster. Only at that moment did Call notice the girl's   
leather pants and mesh top were covered in blood. A rifle   
was strapped to her back and a wide circular blade rested   
against her left hip, fastened in place by a leather strap.  
  
Had she... a child, committed this level of violence alone?   
  
No, the thunderous heartbeats of the other seven beings   
Call had picked on during the battle were still close by.   
She was sure the girl played a part in the carnage but only a small   
one. The others had done most of the work.  
  
Call's eyes lingered on the redhead a moment longer than the child   
seemed to care for. Almost making a show of it, she pointed to the   
Hum Vee. "They will come for you and take you away. Leave now."   
She ordered in a commanding voice no one that young should have.   
  
Call said no more, simply nodded and half dragged Ellen to the Hum   
Vee, shoving her inside the back and covering her with a jacket one   
of the soldiers had left inside. Slamming the door shut, Call jogged   
around to the driver's seat. As she settled behind the wheel she   
took one last look at the young girl, still standing by the   
dumpster. "Thank you." She whispered, knowing the girl could not   
hear her, but feeling the need to say it anyway.  
  
The young redhead watched the Hum Vee back out of the alley and speed   
away, heading south on the street that the alley opened to. A small smile   
crossed her face, they were gone, safe for now. Half her mission   
complete.  
  
Now for the other half.   
  
She hadn't much time. After all that gunfire, she was sure someone   
would call the Authorities, if they hadn't already.   
  
Reaching into the dumpster, she recovered the lifeless infant.   
Cradling him in one arm, she pulled a small flat triangular shaped   
piece of metal from her pants pocket, resting it on the his chest.   
As soon as she pulled her hand away, the silvery metal fanned out   
into a circle as it began to spin. A holographic image of the   
child's failed heart appeared before her. It was as she thought, the   
boy had a massive hole in his septum.  
  
She yanked her weapon from it's holster on her back with her free   
hand, allowing it to fall to ground with an echoing thud. Knelling   
down beside it, she flipped open the side compartment exposing five   
small tubes of brightly colored liquids along with a rather ominous   
looking needle. She recovered the syringe and loaded it with a   
glowing green substance. Skillfully, she plunged the needle into the   
infant's chest, not stopping until it showed up in the center of the   
holographic image of his heart.   
  
Gently, she maneuvered the tip of the needle into the center of   
his damaged septum. Content that she reached her mark, she pressed the   
injection button with her thumb, flooding his tiny heart with the   
green fluid.  
  
Without taking her eyes off the hologram, she patiently waited   
to see if the procedure was successful. After a moment, the   
liquid turned a murky brown, filling in the giant hole in   
his septum. A few moments later his heart spasmed then stilled   
again.   
  
She didn't move, only continued to watch his progress. There was   
another spasm, stronger than the first. Followed by another, then   
another. The corners of her thin lips quirked upwards as his heart   
finally fell into a normal rhythm.   
  
"Tovik." She whispered. The hologram vanished and a read out   
appeared. She scanned the information, forcing herself to hold off   
on rejoicing until she was certain he had no other problems.   
  
There were none. He would be fine.   
  
"Etamitla Ooman." She whispered joyously as she snatched the spinning   
metal disc from his chest. Her smiled faded as she heard the sounds   
of sirens approaching. She looked up at the roof tops and saw   
nothing, as she had expected. They were satisfied, it was time to say   
goodbye to her young patient.  
  
For now...  
  
She looked down at him, he was odd to her eyes, but surreally   
beautiful. She dreaded having to let go of him. Had she become   
attached to him already? The others would think her weak if they   
knew. They never would.   
  
As she gently lowered him back into the trash, the child's eyes   
fluttered open. He shouldn't have had the strength to do that yet,   
so when she noticed she almost dropped him as she gasped in surprise.  
  
He was strong, her Father had chosen well. "Com jetty, Ooman Yew."   
She spoke to him in her softest tone as she looked into his big light   
brown eyes. "Com jetty, Ooman Yew... We will meet again young man."   
  
With a heavy heart she placed him on a bag of trash, then climbed out   
of the dumpster. She left the cord around his neck, that would   
insure the Authorities would get him to a medical facility quickly.   
She knew it best to leave the lid open, making him easier to find.  
  
Hastily, she recovered her gun then retreated into the shadows where   
her family waited for her. 


	2. Naming the Dead

The Bleeding  
Chapter 2: Naming the Dead  
  
The Mercy District  
Cardinal Gibbons Memorial Hospital   
Neo Natal I.C.U.  
  
"Hey Mary, anything shaking tonight?"  
  
"A few things. We got some filing to do. Oh Maggie, wants us to clean up the Nurse's   
Break Room."  
  
"Again?"  
  
"Yeah, fucking pigs from the day shift claimed that they didn't have   
time'. Bitches."  
  
"You do the Break Room."  
  
"ME!?!"  
  
"Yeah you, I did it last night. Word to my dead Daddy Herb if I find   
one more loaded condom back there..."  
  
"Oh God, Harley and Shawn must be back together."  
  
"Yeah for this month anyway. Anything else?"  
  
"... hmmm, yeah actually. We got 'naming detail'."  
  
"Which one?"  
  
"The one that came on Friday, the boy."  
  
"So 'Dumpster Juice' is gonna make it?"  
  
"Lovely nickname you christened him with Lisa. But alas no,   
he's no better today than he was last night. I guess the 'suits' are   
sick of paying premium for a kid they know won't make it, so he's   
being moved to the Hospice."  
  
"Yeah, well he'll get all the morphine his little dysfunctional heart   
can take until he kicks off."  
  
"God Lisa... Any ideas for a name?"  
  
"As long as it looks good on a tombstone, I am frosty with whatever."  
  
"That was 'frosty' comment..."  
  
"Shit Girl, you been here what, six months? You've seen the shit that   
goes on in here. Half these little bastards don't make it a week and the   
half that do live end up in orphanages. Nobody cares about gene trash,   
especially little sick ones."  
  
"...Still, he's only a baby..."  
  
"And. That's. All. He'll. Ever. Be."  
  
"True." *sigh* "I guess the least we can do is give him something   
respectable."  
  
"So any ideas?"  
  
"Hmmm, howzabout Ralph?"  
  
"Please."  
  
"Morris?"  
  
"Sounds like a striper."  
  
"Ohh, Zachariah."  
  
"Too Biblical."  
  
"You did say tombstone."  
  
"Yeah, but Zac-har-iah?"  
  
"Hmmm, Richard?"  
  
"Good one, that's my ex-husband's name."  
  
"And that makes it good?"  
  
"Yeah, I always wished that sorry ass bastard would drop dead, so  
I could dance on his fucking grave."  
  
"Tsk... What about a middle name?"  
  
"That is so old Earth."  
  
"And, I'm from Earth, nothing wrong with a middle name. Kinda makes   
you seem more ... important."  
  
"Can't think of anything."  
  
"C'mon Lisa..."  
  
"Hey, why not Bryant?"  
  
"You wanna name this kid after your asshole ex-husband AND your idiot   
ex-boyfriend too?"  
  
"Hey you asked. And since the kid's name is gonna be on a tombstone,   
it might as well be a name that I can 'dance to'."  
  
"Lord Lisa, with that logic why don't you just tag the poor kid with Maggie's   
last name?"  
  
"Sounds like a grand idea to me. I can't stand her ass either. The Bitch.   
Her name in granite sounds even better than my ex-husband's."  
  
"I can't believe this."  
  
"Well, kid named, time to do rounds."  
  
"He is not named..."  
  
"Yes, he is. Look Mary, he's 'dead' okay, accept it. We have to   
name him by law, who gives a shit WHAT the name is?"  
  
"Fine, Richard Bryant Riddick it is. But I be damned if I am   
cleaning the breakroom."   
  
"Oh yes you are..."  
  
"Hell no I ain't..." 


End file.
